The Ninth Hour
by K. East
Summary: LJ Lily Evans and James Potter are proud attendants of the Longbottoms' wedding. However, during the reception, things go horribly, horribly wrong. Humor, innuendos, sometimes blatant statements and a crack ending.
1. Prologue

**The Ninth Hour**

**Prologue**

12:03 PM

It was high noon in early August, and one Lily Evans was sweltering.

(Why was she sweltering? After all, this is England. Well - try standing around in 80-degree weather with a huge, poofy bridesmaid dress and _then_ you may know why dear Lily was sweltering.)

"It's so humid," Lily gasped, tugging at her collar. The dress was a puce green that, while disgusting, didn't look half as bad on her as it did on Marlene. They were the only bridesmaids, and Lily's auburn hair did the dress far more justice than Marlene's thick brown.

"I'll stick it out for Alice," Marlene said, growling as yet another pair of "esteemed relatives" made it down the aisle. "Why is her wedding so...big?"

"We knew it would be when we agreed to it," Lily whispered. "Look - there she is!"

Finally, down the aisle came the bride, in a (thankfully) white dress and veil, looking far too happy.

"She probably had the air conditioning on in her dressing room," Marlene lamented. Lily shushed her as the bride made it down the aisle to meet her husband-to-be.

It was a rather large wedding, with a hundred guests at the very least. Alice had spared no person from invitations, but Lily personally thought that it was a very beautiful way to be married.

Across from the bridesmaids stood the groomsmen, Remus Lupin and Fabian Prewett. The former was looking a bit shabby even in his black suit, while the latter was cheesily joyful, his shock of yellow hair plastered flat with hair cream.

Then, in the center and at the altar, stood Frank Longbottom, a short fellow with an easy-going look to him. He was dressed in a classic tuxedo, his face quite pink as Alice appraocehd with her bouquet of yellow roses.

Lily sighed as the couple exchanged their vows. Not only was she delighted that her friends were now married, she knew that the reception would be in a nice, air-conditioned hotel - thank _goodness_.

What Lily _didn't_ know was that soon to come were nine hours, distinct and horrible, that would never leave her memory.


	2. The First Hour

**The Ninth Hour**

**The First Hour**

1:17 PM

"Congratulations, Alice!"

These words were uttered for what seemed like the fiftieth time in the last fifteen minutes - yet, as always, the fair Alice found the energy to thank the congratulator.

Strictly speaking, it was the groom who sould recieve the thanks. It was not as if Alice had won a prize; however, one must rememer that these were the '70's - etiquette had long past dissinegrated.

"The reception's beautiful, _Mrs. Longbottom_," Lily said appreciatively. Alice blushed.

"You make me sound like an old married woman, Lily."

Lily just smiled.

"Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride," someone quoted from behind the two. They turned.

"James Potter," admonished Lily. "That is really unfair. Besides, I've only been a bridesmaid twice."

James - a tall man of Lily's same age, with muddy brown eyes and wild black hair - looked amiably upon the ladies. "Hello, Lily. Hello, Alice - congratulations," he added.

"Thank you."

"I was going to ask if I might kiss the bride," he admitted, "but I think I'd rather kiss her bridesmaid."

Lily smiled. "I think not. This bridesmaid is busy."

"Seeing as how you're doing nothing," said Alice, "I'd say you should kiss him all he wants. Besides, my mum-in-law is coming this way, and she's likely to critcize your choice in shoes. Shoo!"

With that, Lily scurried; she took James's proffered hand and together they made their way through the crowded room - a grand place, provided by the hotel - and into the elevator, which seemed to be the only peaceful place left.

The doors closed and Lily immediately held up a hand to stop an eager James.

"What?" he complained. "I can't snog my girlfriend in an elevator anymore?"

"This is _Alice and Frank's_ day, James. And besides, I'm dead tired," she added, leaning down to remove her shoes. They were tasteful heels that gave her immense blisters.

James sniffed.

"Don't pout."

"I'm not pouting," James pouted.

"Don't lie."

"I'm not - " he stopped, because he was.

The elevator ride went on in near-silence, the only sound being "We All Live In A Yellow Submarine" by the Beatles (Lily thought she might just kill herself).

The doors opened and the pair entered the third floor, James humming and Lily looking murderous. Her fingers twitched with a longing for her wand.

"We all live in a yellow submarine..."

And so the first hour passed in agony.


	3. The Second Hour

**The Ninth Hour**

**The Second Hour**

2:01 PM

The second hour opened with a wild snogfest.

In the middle of said wild snogfest (which had begun with Lily forgetting she was tired), James and Lily realized they were being watched.

Well, they didn't _realize_ it so much as they blundered right into it.

Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, much to their (un)surprise, had followed them up to the third floor and watched the makeout seesion like they would watch bad porno...involving people they knew...live...with clothes. As in, not at all. The point is, however, that they were there.

You see, if one does not realize where Sirius and Peter were (which was behind a large ficus), they will not realize where Lily and James were (groping in the middle of a corridor), nor what happened to them (which was, unfortunately for them and hilariously for everyone else, that Sirius and Peter might leap out from behind the fius and push their friends into an unoccupied room, and transfigure the ficus into a piano. Why a piano? No one knows.)

This resulted in an uproar of action: whoops of success on the two pranksters' parts, and cries of shock on the couple's part.

"What in the dickens do you think you're doing?" yelled James, pushing on the door. The only result was a rather large chip in the piano's side, which made Peter sad.

"It's the perfect prank, Prongs. Sorry," said Sirius. He was right - it was perfect: it was shamelessly simple and out of character, as well as a perfect opportunity (the couple was _so_ unsuspected, Sirius thought).

"No! Let us _out_!" demanded Lily.

"Please!" James added.

"That ruins the fun of it, Wormy," Sirius chided as the chunkier young man opened his mouth to say, _Maybe we should._ "Don't worry, I'll blame it on me so you don't get bruised."

"I hear you!" James hollered.

"Good! Maybe you'll hear me play the piano!"

James visibly blanched, which, of course, imediately worried Lily.

"James! James _Potter_ - what is it? He bad at piano-playing or something?" She blinked.

"Lily," James said, turning to her in resignation. "I'm sorry it had to end this way."

"_What?_"

And so the opening bars of the "Star Wars" theme song erupted, loud and drawn out - and off-key.

_It's not too late to kill yourself, Lily._


	4. The Third Hour

**The Ninth Hour**

**The Third Hour**

3:05 PM

"What time is it?"

"Three."

"It's been an hour!" Lily cried, throwing herself into a chair. She had been pacing, but her feet were blistered and tired and her dress was getting _awfully_ sticky...

"Calm down, Lily." James said. He was lying on his stomach in the center of hte bed, staring at the television. "Look, the Prime Minister is giving a speech."

"That's not live," she told him, eyebrows quirked upwards. "Really, James, you should buy a telly if you like it so much."

James - still staring at the television - merely curled up and sighed. "He's not anything like Fudge, is he?"

"No, he's a good deal smarter."

They were cast into silence for a good amount of time. Then -

"I've got it!"

"Got what?" James tilted his head.

"How to get out. There's a balcony beneath ours, right?" Lily sat up straight, looking excited.

"Yes..."

"So - they've been here all the _time_, I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier - "

"_What_?"

"Look." Lily motioned to the balcony. James sighed and made his way languidly toward the balcony. He looked down. "See, we take the sheets and tie them together in a rope. Then we tie it to the bars and drape it over, like _that_."

"Brilliant, but it doesn't help us."

"Don't you see? We'll climb down, like in the movies."

James stared. "You're crazy." With this he returned to the bed, still drawn to the ever-astounding telly.

"No," Lily corrected, looking impatient. "I'm desperate. Sorry, Potter, but I couldn't possibly stay in here with you for another minute. I'm ready to rip my hair out, as it is."

His expression went sour. "I'd think you could spend more than an hour in my presence, seeing as we've been dating for almost two years. And why are we back to a last name basis?"

But somewhere the third hour knew it must interfere, and interfere it did.

Something changed in Lily's expression - it grew softer, her lips moving into a small smile. She left the balcony and flopped onto the bed. "I'm sorry, James," she whispered, kissing his left temple. "I don't mean it."

James grinned and rolled onto his side to face her. "You know - "

"I intend to wear a white dress to my wedding."

His quirky grin faltered a little, but he quickly regained the good attitude. "Well, I still love you."

"Good. I hope you forgive me for this." She shoved him onto the floor and promptly attacked the bed, ripping off the sheets.

"Lily! You can't just shimmy down to someone else's room!" James waved his arms crazily. Lily ignored him.

"Oh! My heart!" James clutched his chest and fell to the floor, convulsing.

Lily ignored him and continued ripping up sheets, though there was a slight smile on her face.

"You're mean," James sniffled, getting up.

"You'd know.


	5. The Fourth Hour

**The Ninth Hour**

**The Fourth Hour**

4:00 PM

"I'm done." Lily held up a length of rope, made from ripped sheets she had knotted together.

James, who was lying face-down on the floor, didn't even bother to look up from the carpet. "You know, there's more than one good use for that rope."

"Don't flirt, I'm trying to concentrate," Lily told him. She had successfully tied one end of the makeshift rope to the rail of their balcony. "Come hold this in case it comes undone."

James obliged, looking both sour and disappointed.

"Here I go." Lily gripped the rope firmly and clambered over the edge. Slowly she lowered herself, sliding tentatively down the rope.

The second-floor balcony wasn't more than fifteen feet down, but Lily, who was a bit afraid of heights, grew anxious edging downward. She was just about to set foot on the rim when she heard noises coming from inside - and one was, disturbingly enough, familiar.

"Pull me up!" she hissed at James, who in turn looked confused. The noises inside died.

"_Quick_!" She half-yelped. James began reeling her in hand-over-hand, just quickly enough to get Lily out of sight before someone came out to investigate.

Back safely in their room, Lily was glaring fiercely at James. He ran a hand through his hair nervously and shrugged.

"Do you _know_ why we're here?" she demanded.

He shook his head.

"Because Sirius has left us here while he went downstairs to get laid!" she screeched, looking slightly hysterical. "Everyone's working like rabbits and meanwhile I haven't been able to change out of this horrid dress!"

"Hey - wearing a suit isn't all fun and games," James defended. "I mean, white shirts are see-through. People can probably see my nipples through this."

"No one looks at your nipples!" Lily cried.

"Well, seeing as how you're a woman, I thought you might sympathize," James pouted.

"Just because I'm a woman _doesn't_ mean everyone's inclined to look at my breasts - _yes_, I said 'breasts'," Lily added added, noting James's blush. It was ironic how "breasts" made him blush and "nipples" didn't.

"_I'm_ inclined," he said.

"That is not something you indulge, even with your girlfriend."

"I'm just being _honest_."

"You want to see them?" Lily asked. "Be honest."

James's eyes widened. "Yeah."

"Come here and you can."

"Really?"

"No." Lily laughed - somewhat cruelly, _he_ thought. "This day will remain PG-rated, thank you very much."

James sulked, and thus the rest of the fourth hour was spent.


	6. The Fifth Hour

**The Ninth Hour**

**The Fourth Hour**

5:35 PM

"I've missed all the roast pork," Jmaes moaned, marking the first half of the fifth hour. "And the lamb, and the lobster, and the roast potatoes - "

"Shut up. I'll cook some when we get home, if you want it so bad."

"And there was probably custard, and I bet there's half a wedding cake left over that could've been in my stomach."

"Shut up. I'll ask Alice for some later if you want it so bad."

"And what's worse is that Sirius finally got someone in bed with him, and I'm still a virgin."

"Shut up. I'll have sex with you if you want it so bad."

"Really?"

"No." And Lily laughed cruelly for the second time that day.

"But you meant it about the roast potatoes, right?"


	7. The Sixth Hour

**The Ninth Hour**

**The Sixth Hour**

6:01 PM

The sixth hour was one of realization.

"Merlin's beard."

"What?"

Lily shot up from where she had been lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

"_What_?"

"Why didn't we think to use the phone?"

There was an awkward silence in which James looked slightly stunned - and Lily slightly angry. Then -

"We must've been high or something."

"No," Lily said confidentally. "You would've known. Maybe not I, but you? Yes."

"Hey!"

"Well, I feel stupid. I suppose it's not too late." Lily strode over to the phone and quickly dialed a number.

"Who are you calling?"

"Molly. Yes, Molly - Arthur Weasley has a phone - he's obsessed with Muggles, remember? We talk all the time when I'm not over at your apartment."

James sniffed as he recalled the number of times Lily had been over to apartment - then the number of times she had spent the night, which was currently zero. If you're thinking that Mr. Potter has a one-track mind, however, you're wrong - on occasion he can be persuaded to think about puppies.

Occasionally.

"Hello? May I speak to Molly? Yes, it's she." Lily paused. "Hello, Molly. No, not yet. Listen - you need to send a message out to Alice and tell her - what? Wow...oh..." She hung up, then stared at James.

"_What_?"

"Molly says we should send a Patronous out the window."

"...damnit!"


	8. The Seventh Hour

**The Ninth Hour**

**The Seventh Hour**

7:54 PM

"There. Reception's over. Piano's moved." Sirius sounded bored. "Now could you please just leave? I'm tired."

"You would be," James muttered. He gathered up his discarded jacket and pushed past Sirius. Lily followed. Both glared at the ficus tree, which sat innocently in the corner.

Of course, just then Sirius had to produce a large supply of letovers (which everyone knows taste better than the original stuff). Lily and James, who hadn't eaten for a good six and a half hours, drooled - all was forgiven.

Peter was nowhere to be found, and so it took a few minutes of frantic searching to locate him. Apparently he had decided to infiltrate the hotel kitchens; not exactly the stuff of Houdini, he had been caught and condemned to washing dishes.

"Why'd you let them out, Padfoot?"

Sirius shrugged. "They were in there long enough," h muttered. "Right, Prongs?"

James spluttered something through a mouthful of dinner roll, causing Lily to smack him on the arm.

James swallowed. "I'm tired."

"Going back to your place?" Peter asked. He had grown more articulate over the years, but something about him was never all there, and this moment in time was no exception.

"Yes. Lily?"

"No, mine. I'm going to jog or something to burn off some energy, though, if anyone wants to go, too." Lily licked a little raspberry jam off her fingers. "Sirius?"

"No thanks. I'm going back to my house, to sleep," he said, yawning.

Peter sniffed. "Where's - ?"

"Doing whatever groomsmen do."

And so this was how time passed, and soon the six remaining minute of the seventh hour were over.


	9. The Ninth Hour

**The Ninth Hour**

**The Fourth Hour**

9:00 PM

Lily, James, Sirius, Peter, and even Remus had all made it asfely to their respective homes, where they all fell asleep. The eighth hour had passed by without notice, and so could not really be documented.

The ninth hour was quiet and dark. The night had come late, for this was August, in the long days of summer. Dusk finally receded and in an empty corridor a ficus tree sat.

You see, this story is not really about Lily and James; nor is it about Sirius and his mysterious lover; nor is it about Peter and his dishes. No, this story is about a ficus tree who had once been a piano, and his name was Mr. Ficus.

Mr. Ficus spread his branches and concentrated, easily resuming his real shape. Yes, Mr. Ficus was not a regular ficus - he was a man in an overcoat and golf polo, with an ugly brown hat.

Mr. Ficus laguhed hoarsely and headed for the elevator.

The End


End file.
